


Nine Circles of Hell and This Is Not One of Them

by scarebeast



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen, Nightmares, Past Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-14
Updated: 2012-04-14
Packaged: 2017-11-03 15:12:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/382813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarebeast/pseuds/scarebeast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And they say, "Dean Winchester is saved." But not from this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nine Circles of Hell and This Is Not One of Them

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vinvy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinvy/gifts).



People aren't meant to come back from Hell.

Dean's dreams are proof of that.

In his dreams, Alastair is a white eyed demon with the face of a pediatrician.

In his dreams, he's tied down and Alastair is carving and carving and Dean's skin just keeps coming back, remade, like magic.

In his dreams, he says yes and Alastair hands him the razor. Show me what you can do, my boy.

And he carves and carves and carves, rips into people, souls, with an abandon that terrifies him, enslaves him. He likes it, likes the feeling it gives him, to be able to force whimpers and moans and screams out of people. He feels powerful, in control. Like his life makes sense, for the first time, like it means something. He's not tied down to anyone. Just this.

Alastair watches, in his dreams, twines himself around Dean as he works, murmurs encouragements, suggestions.

Dean catalogues every single one and sometimes he'll even use them. He's not one to waste good ideas.

In his dreams, he turns his blade on Alastair and the demon screams and screams, and it's music to his ears. Choirs of angels singing a song that only he can understand. He knows what actual angels sound like though and figures that the metaphor is pretty inaccurate. Maybe it's choirs of demons. They were human once, after all, and humanity is the closest thing to Heaven, for Dean.

Sometimes his dreams wake him with screams choking their way out of his chest. Sometimes his dreams leave him wide awake and cold. Sometimes he wakes and Castiel is there to soothe the agony away with a touch to his forehead. Sometimes he jerks awake to find Sam watching him with worried eyes, and those are always the nights with the worst dreams.

One thing is constant. The feeling in his chest, the sheet of pain that aches so greatly he can't feel anything else, that makes him lose his appetite for everything, sex, food, beer. Some days he can quell it, the monster tearing up his insides, but more often than not he has to work his way through the ache in his throat and try to function like a normal fucking person.

Nothing fixes it, no matter how hard he tries and he's beginning to think nothing will fix it, not booze, not sex, not food, not Castiel's magic touch. The satisfaction of killing another monster and saving people doesn't even begin to scratch the surface anymore.

People aren't meant to come back from Hell and there's a reason for that.


End file.
